“As a keyboard player, I’ve always felt that any day now someone is going to discover that I’m a fraud and run me out of town,” admits Michael McDonald with a chuckle.

“I enjoy playing, I really do, but I have to be honest with myself: I probably would never make a living as a keyboard player.”

It can safely be said that McDonald, 56, is underestimating his talents. One doesn’t cut one’s teeth playing the madly demanding compositions of Steely Dan, redefine the style of classic rockers the Doobie Brothers, and establish a distinctive sound as a solo artist without having considerable keyboard chops.

The St. Louis native’s instrumental skills are widely underrated—not least by the man himself—mainly thanks to his gruffly soulful baritone, one of the most unique in all of popular music. McDonald’s voice first came to public attention during his time with the Doobies, when he wrote smashes like “Takin’ It to the Streets” and “What a Fool Believes” (the latter penned with Kenny Loggins). In the 1980s he shot to solo stardom with hits “I Keep Forgettin’ (Every Time You’re Near),” “Sweet Freedom” and the Grammy-winning James Ingram duet “Yah Mo B There.” In recent years he has enjoyed a commercial renaissance with his covers albums Motown and Motown Two.

McDonald’s latest effort, Soul Speak, keeps one foot in 1960s and ’70s R&B territory with new takes on chestnuts like Teddy Pendergrass’ “Love T.K.O.” and Jackie Wilson’s “(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher.” But it also includes three newly composed songs, his first (aside from a handful of Christmas tunes) to see release in more than a decade.

We caught up with McDonald in Hawaii, where he was enjoying a pre-tour vacation with his wife, singer Amy Holland. He gamely discussed his musical past, plans for the future and—modesty aside—skills as a keyboardist.

How did you learn to play?
My dad brought home an old piano, and I plunked away at it and picked out melodies by ear. Then my parents got me piano lessons, and I lasted a few months. The guy was always telling me, “You’ve got to stop playing by ear, because you are never going to learn how to read.” I knew what he was saying, but I couldn’t help myself. I got as far as Abe Lincoln’s campaign song in the piano book, and that was it. I played piano to write songs after that.

For more, get the latest Issue of Performing Songwriter, ISSUE No. 109